the troll kingI know who you are.
I've been watching you for some time.
Do not be afraid.
I want to help you.
[[Help me?->Help me?]]
Good.
You understand.
Declare yourself.
Speak your name.
[[...I...->Faint voice]]
How disappointing.
Some do not wish to be saved.
But no matter.
The "choice" is an illusion.
You will see soon enough...
Or do you wish to fight your destiny?
How brave.
Dear Opponent, declare yourself.
Speak your name.
[[...I...->Faint voice]]
Search inside.
You already know.
Now, declare yourself.
Speak your name.
[[...I...->Faint voice]]You feel lost.
Hopeless.
Like the entire world is against you.
You crave love
But do not understand it
You crave freedom
But you have never felt it
You are held back from your true potential.
[[......->Do you want power? ]]
Your eyes open.
You see your mother's face, a warm halo surrounding her.
(text-colour:orange)[''MABEL'':
Zachary! It's time for school!]
And it's gone.
[[Pull the comforter over your head.->You are a lump]]Do you want the truth?
Do you want power?
[[I want truth. I want power.->Yes power]]
[[I reject truth. I reject power.->No power]]
[[Who are you? How can I trust you?->Who are you? ]]This is your room.
Your sanctuary from the cruelty of society, the relentless barrage of the sun.
Look around you.
Look at your life.
(if: $inspectRig <= 2)[[[Your "rig"->Inspect rig]]]
(if: $inspectClothes <= 2)[[[The piles of clothes->Inspect clothes pile]]]
(if: $inspectStain <= 2)[[[The mysterious stain->Inspect stain]]]
Yes, how about the pile of machinery that takes up 40% of your room?
Your "rig": a goliath of a custom-built PC.
Adorning it, an empty Energy Drink can.
A garnish of Cheeto dust.
[[Fuck it. Boot it up.|Boot up rig]]
[[Grab the Monster can.|Energy drink]]
[[Say goodbye.|Done with rig]]Piles of fabric scattered about your room.
Much of it you have no emotional connection to.
That is, except the memories of long, boring trips to the mall with your mother.
Who cares what cotton polyester you drape over your pathetic flesh sack?
There are exceptions, of course.
And you can't very well leave the house nude.
You've had that dream before.
You give a few shirts the smell test.
Your options are:
[[Supervillain t-shirt|Supervillain t-shirt]]
[[Striped t-shirt|Striped t-shirt]]
[[Superhero t-shirt|Superhero t-shirt]]What is this even?
A thick glob caked onto your side table.
Probably the remnants of a sloppily-slurped beverage.
A potion of corn syrup and food coloring.
[[Smell it->smell stain]]
[[Touch it-> Touch stain]]
[[Ignore it for now (potentially forever)->ignore stain]]
(set: $inspectStain to 1)
(set: $smellStain to 0)
(set: $touchStain to 0)
(set: $ignoreStain to 0)A metallic chime.
(text-colour:orange)[''MABEL''
Zachary!]
[[......->It's your alarm]]Your alarm!
[[!!!!!!!->Zachary!]]
(text-colour:orange)[''MABEL''
ZACHARY!!!]
[[''WAKE UP''|Your eyes open]]You hear a faint voice...
A woman's voice...
Your (text-colour:orange)[''mother'']?
(text-colour:orange)[''MABEL''
Zachary...
Zachary...]
[[...->A metallic chime]]
You are a lump.
A plush coccoon, shutting out the world.
But your mother rips them off.
You are now raw flesh in the harsh light.
Cowering in your boxer briefs.
Oh yes...
You are Zachary.
You are in high school.
You are a nerd.
[[Look around you.->Look around you]]
(set: $inspectPosters to 0)
(set: $inspectRig to 0)
(set: $inspectClothes to 0)
(set: $inspectStain to 0)(set: $smellStain to 1)
Whatever you do, do not think about vomiting.
You will only increase the wretchedness.
An endless cycle of vomit, smelling the vomit, vomiting more.
Over and over and over until you are a shell.
Your guts piled up on the floor.
And then who will have to clean it up?
You guessed it—
Your mother.
[[Ok, I'm done with this stain.|Done with stain]]Ew! Ew! Ew!
What is that texture?
Let's list some phrases that come to mind:
- Dehydrated slime.
- Sludge grits.
- Oatmeal a la Puke.
There's a little bit on your hand.
[[Wipe it on your shirt|Wipe on your shirt]]
[[Lick it off|Lick it off]]
[[Move on|Done with stain]]
(set: $touchStain to 1)A wise decision.
[[.....|Look around you]]
(align:"<==")+(box:"=XX=")[''THE TROLL KING''
by Aeneas Sagar Hemphill
(10-28-22 demo)
[[Chapter 1: The Troll King Rises->I know who you are]]]You know, I think it adds a little something, don't you?
Perhaps the illusion of engaging with the world.
"Oh, a stain?"
I don't have time for that.
I have a life.
But you don't have a life, do you Zachary?
You have a computer.
[[Ok, I'm done with this stain.|Done with stain]]
(set: $touchStain to 2)No! Don't!
Nooooo, come on.
Oh, you're such a freak!
Actually, you know what?
There's something kind of badass about it.
It gives off a sort of "I don't care about anything/fuck the world" vibe.
That's good, that's good.
There are many a sour taste on the way to greatness.
Fortify yourself now.
[[Ok, I'm done with this stain.|Done with stain]]
(set: $touchStain to 2)Yes, fuck it!
Forsake this artificial world.
This is real. This is who you are.
Be one with the machine.
Seriously? Come on.
Off to the bus. Off to school.
[[.....|Inspect rig]]Crushed it.
Literally.
[[Check for remaining drops.|Consume energy drink]]
(if: $trashMonster < 1)[[[Toss it.|Trash energy drink]]]
[[Put it back.|Return energy drink]]
Only several torturous hours until you are reunited.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Won't it feel good when you finally shut that door and don that headset?
[[Soon.|Look around you]]
(set: $inspectRig to 3)You hold the can in the air as high as your arm can reach, your tongue ready to receive any final drops, some trace of your previous night's euphoria.
There! You catch one.
Your pupils dilate.
Your veins feel electrified.
The little hamster in a wheel that is your mind quickens to a trot.
The effect is short-lived, however.
If you had woken up when you were supposed to, you could have fueled up with a balanced array of caloric compounds ("food").
But you didn't, did you?
[[what am I doing?|Inspect rig]]Swish-swish!
If only you could summon this skill in P.E.
Wait. Wasn't your trash can overflowing before?
Where did it all go?
Perhaps a raccoon slipped in through the window and carried it off?
I can't think of any other possible explanation.
What we do know for certain is that you are not the one responsible.
In any case, your trash has been trashed, and you are well on your way to creating another unweildy pile so you can try and catch the mysterious trash thief in the act.
[[Anyway.|Inspect rig]]
(set: $trashMonster to 1)You place the can back where it was.
Look at you, finding the art in filth.
[[what am I doing?|Inspect rig]]The school bell rings.
Red lockers stretch endlessly before you.
Youthful voices richochet.
Gossip from a world behind a veil you will never penetrate.
[[Go to your locker|To your locker]]
Double-click this passage to edit it.A girl.
A girl you know!
It's really her.
(text-colour:cyan)[Hope.]
You haven't spoken since sixth grade.
She looks so different.
So...mature.
And confident.
She emits a warm glow, shining through the adolescent hordes.
How many times you have watched her from afar.
You creeper.
[[uh...uh...|Here comes Hope]](text-colour:cyan)[''HOPE''
Terri!!!]
Yes. (text-colour:magenta)[Terri]. Duh.
You were her (text-colour:magenta)[Terri] once.
Or rather, (text-colour:magenta)[Terri] is now her Zachary.
And you are nothing.
[[!!!|Sense something]](text-colour:red)[''???''
Too slow!]
A large, fast-moving object bounces off the base of your spine and richochets.
As you struggle to regain your balance, you identify it as a football.
A hand clutches your shoulder.
[[.....|Introducing Kevin]](text-colour:red)[''???''
Put your hands up next time, dingus.]
It's (text-colour:red)[Kevin], your tormenter.
The alpha of this pack of apes.
For some reason unknown to you, he has singled you out for daily floggings.
Behind him, always in his shadow: (text-colour:red)[Blake] and (text-colour:red)[Craig.]
(text-colour:red)[Kevin] stretches his arm out to you, his palm open.
[[.....|Toll]]
[[Give him a low-five.|What the fuck?]]Laminate lines the walls.
Teacher's names, career aspirations, brochures for colleges you will never attend.
If only you cared.
If only you knew where you wanted to take your pathetic little life.
They know.
These teens teaming the halls.
Beautiful, blessed by evolution.
Perfect muscles and perfect curves in an endless dance.
The air is heavy with sweat and spit and raging hormones.
Including yours.
[[Wait, is that...?|See Hope]]Here she comes, the closest you've been, you may ever be...
[[Say something, stupid.|Hope's friend?]]
[[Hide. Look away. Pretend you didn't see her!|Hope's friend?]]]
She blows right past you.
You turn to see her embrace another girl.
This is her best friend.
What's her name...?
[[[Sherri?|Hope ignores you]]
[[Terri?|Hope ignores you]]
[[Gerri?|Hope ignores you]]](text-colour:red)[''KEVIN''
Pay the toll, nerd. We're fundraising to get all that gum out of your locker.]
They put that gum in your locker.
(text-colour:red)[''KEVIN''
What do you got? It's for a good cause.]
You have $5 in your pocket.
You need that $5.
An energy drink costs $3.49.
With tax, that's $4.26.
There is a very slim margin for error here.
For something you look forward to every day.
The only reliable moment of pleasure outside of your bedroom.
You would rather die than give up your afternoon treat.
[[Refuse|Refuse toll]]They stare at you.
Dumbfounded. Appalled.
(text-colour:red)[''KEVIN''
What the...fuck was that?]
He wipes his hand on his jeans.
(text-colour:red)[''KEVIN'':
Anyway...]
[[.....|Toll]]You sense something coming—
[[Dodge right|Hit by a ball]]
[[Dodge left|Hit by a ball]]
[[Stand your ground|Hit by a ball]]
The world has flipped on its head.
Your hair grazes the dirty vinyl floors.
Hands grip your shins below (above?).
You jerk up (down?)
Then back down (up?)
*Shake*
*Shake*
*Shake*
*Shake*
Change falls from your pockets.
*cha-ching*
*cha-ching*
*cha-ching*
[[The bell rings.|Saved by the bell]](text-colour:grey)[''TEACHER'':
That's last call! Get to class!]
The jocks drop you like a heavy sack.
You flop about, eyes up toward the shadows churning against the flourescent lights.
One shape comes into focus:
A (text-colour:grey)[Teacher]'s stern, judgemental look.
(text-colour:grey)[''TEACHER'':
Do you require...assistance, Mr. Goodwin? ]
[[Get yourself off the floor.|Homeroom]]Homeroom.
(text-colour:gray)[Miss Longfellow] drones at the front of the class. The words are imperceptible. All you hear is a dull tone, soothing if not for the fact that you are forced to listen to it in this prison of a school.
(text-colour:grey)[MISS LONGFELLOW
Mr. Goodwin.]
That's you dummy.
(text-colour:grey)[MISS LONGFELLOW
How many floors does the Eiffel Tower have?]
How many floors does the Eiffel Tower have? What kind of lesson is this? Well, it's tall right? It must be a lot. Or is it a trick? I'll give you a few options:
[[A) 10?|Wrong]]
[[B) 50?|Wrong]]
[[C) 3?|Correct]]
[[D) A lot?|Super wrong]] That's enough trauma for one morning.
[[.....|Look around you]]
(set: $inspectStain to 3)Beware the mad military scientist and archvillain...
General Malaise!
Once a brilliant scientist working for the security of the United States.
Now a criminial mastermind, hiding in the shadows.
His genetically-modified muscles stretch the fibers of his lab coat.
An American flag crossed out on his cap signifies his defection to the Soviet Union.
The rim casts a shadow, hiding his eyes.
He smiles...
...evil-ly.
[[Choose the Supervillain t-shirt.|Choose villain]]
[[Think it over.|Inspect clothes pile]]A striped shirt. Nothing terribly unique, but a standard.
You probably don't know this, but your mother has pretty good taste.
This looks like something you'd find at one of those overstock stores.
Not quite a thrift store, not a department store, somewhere in between.
If you cared to look at the tag, you might know from which famous designer this shirt took its windy, knotty path to the rack your Mom searched that day. You'd know just how precious—
You need to go to school. Decide.
[[Choose the striped shirt|Choose striped]]
[[Think it over|Inspect clothes pile]]Uberman.
Defender of Liberty, Freedom, and Democracy.
His corn-fed muscles stretch the limits of his primary-colored suit.
His chiseled, symmetrical face beams through his touseled blonde hair.
A symbol, through Wars World, Cold, and Proxy, he was a symbol for a Nation (the most important Nation!)--a beacon of Purity and Goodness, and all the world should strive for.
[[Choose the Superhero shirt.|Choose hero]]
[[Think it over.|Inspect clothes pile]]]Wow. Don't you look like a regular kid. Someone who goes over to his friend's house after school, maybe gets into some trouble on the weekends.
This is a kid who rides a bike, and helps his father wash the car.
Where are you getting all this from?
See? You watch too much television. You don't even know what's real.
Anyway.
[[...?|Pants]]
(set: $chooseStriped to 1)
Hm. That's interesting.
Oh, nothing.
[[...?|Pants]]
(set: $chooseVillain to 1)Of course you would. Who wouldn't pick the hero? And just look how shiny he is. How unattainable. He is better than you. Better than all of us.
[[...?|Pants]]
(set: $chooseHero to 1)You ran and you ran and you cramped.
But you made it.
Just in time.
[[Phew...|School arrival]]Ok, now what about pants?
Of course, the same jeans as yesterday!
That's why you stored them so cleverly on the floor.
Just give it a little dust-off and--
[[Is that blood?]]
The school bus can be dangerous, but you can minimize risk by knowing the system.
There. In the back. Yes. That's where the (text-colour:red)[Cool Kids] sit.
What is (text-colour:red)["Cool"]? That is a question as old as time. Or at least advertising.
What is (text-colour:red)["Cool"] can change based on any number of social and economic factors. It doesn't matter what (text-colour:red)["Cool"] is because once you figure out what (text-colour:red)["Cool"] is they will change it. Because what is important about (text-colour:red)["Cool"] isn't what it looks like. What is important about (text-colour:red)["Cool"] is that you will never be it.
Anyway. They sit in the back.
It's ketchup! There was an open packet of ketchup in your pocket!
Why was there an open packet of ketchup in your---
You don't remember, do you?
How could you?
You were in the Zone.
(text-colour:orange)[''MABEL''
Zachary! Let's move it!
]
[[Catch the bus|Catch the bus]] (text-colour:grey)[MISS LONGFELLOW
Oh, I'm sorry Zachary that's not correct. There are actually only three floors in the Eiffel Tower. The rest is just the elevator. It makes sense given how tall it is, though. That's a common mistake! ]
Kevin, behind you, hovers his lips over your ear.
(text-colour:red)[KEVIN
You're a common mistake.]
His cohort chortle.
(text-colour:grey)[MISS LONGFELLOW
Mr. Goodwin, I'd appreciate if you wouldn't chat with your friends during my lesson.]
[[What?! They were—|Defend yourself]]
(text-colour:grey)[MISS GOODWIN
Wow, that's right, Zachary! Good job.
]
Did you...actually get that right?
I mean, it was a total guess, but I think you just got yourself a little confidence there.
(text-colour:red)[KEVIN
You're really gonna get it after class, nerd.]
[[Great.|Lockerroom talk]] (text-colour:grey)[MISS LONGFELLOW
Now Mr. Goodwin, I'd really like to see you try harder one of these days.
]
Whatever.
Who cares about stupid Eiffel Tower or stupid France?
What does this have to do with the book, anyway?
Not that you read the book.
What is the book again?
(text-colour:red)[KEVIN
Nice one, dingus. Haven't you even been to Paris before? Idiot. ]
[[Great.|Lockerroom talk]](text-colour:red)[KEVIN
Yeah, you're so distracting. Miss Longfellow, may you please move Zachary to another desk?]
(text-colour:grey)[MISS LONGFELLOW
Well, the only one we have is that one in the corner. ]
You see a dusty, rusty desk.
It's different from all the others.
Not only because of its condition, but because of its design.
Was this meant to be a desk or a torture device from the Spanish Inquisition?
Oh yes, you do know some history.
The disgusting parts.
Whatever the story of this object, it is now where you must sit for the rest of class.
(text-colour:grey)[MISS LONGFELLOW
Let this be a lesson to you, Mr. Goodwin. ]
[[Great.|Lockerroom talk]]How did you get here?
Again.
Your back against a locker.
A thick, masculine arm grazing your face, trapping you there.
He has you right where he wants you.
His scurvy breath.
His musk and spray deoderant.
He grabs your shirt and pulls.
Now you're on your hands and knees.
Around you, the students gather.
[[Try to get up|Try to get up]]
[[Stay on the ground|Stay on the ground]]
(text-colour:red)[???
Hey look, the worm's trying to crawl. ]
Which one is that...? (text-colour:red)[Blake]?
A kick in the butt and you're down again.
(text-colour:red)[BLAKE
Don't make us stick a pin in you. ]
[[Stay down|Sudden silence]]That's right.
There is no point in resisting.
This is their final victory:
They can tell you you're the worm.
They can tell you all day long.
But the real prize is when you accept it.
When you believe it.
You are the worm.
[[I am the worm]]
[[I am not the worm]]Good lord, Zachary.
Did you not absorb a thing I said?
You just accepted it! All I did was say you were the worm.
What are we going to do with you.
[[Actually, I'm not a worm, I'm a puddle. Let me seep into the lineoleum tile. Let me stain the Custodian's mop for good. No, let me go beneath the—|Sudden silence]]Oh, yes. Of course.
You're just "Going along to get along," aren't you?
And who could blame you?
Think about what they would do if you resisted?
[[I just need to get home.|Sudden silence]]A sudden silence.
Whispers.
[[Look up|Hope arrives]]
[[Keep looking down|Hope calls out to you]]
You see her.
(text-colour:cyan)[Hope]...
Her bright smile.
Her outstretched hand.
Murmors from the crowd.
(text-colour:cyan)[HOPE
Don't worry about them.
]
How could you, beside her?
[[Take her hand.]](text-colour:cyan)[???
Zachary!]
That voice.
[[Look up|Hope arrives]]
Static shock!
Not now.
Or is it the spark of love?
(text-colour:cyan)[HOPE
Ow!]
No, static.
She's...laughing?
(text-colour:cyan)[HOPE
That's probably my sweater, sorry. Let's try again.]
[[Take her hand again.]]Now this.
This is...
Warmth?
(text-colour:cyan)[HOPE
Woah!]
You start to fall.
Why?
You're literally standing still.
Weak in the knees?
[[Oh no|She has you]]You're still on your feet.
She still has your hand.
(text-colour:cyan)[HOPE
You ok there, bud? ]
The crowd has dispersed.
You didn't even notice it happen.
It's just you two.
Finally, again.
Like it used to be.
Before serptentine school zones tore you apart.
Before she became popular.
Before...puberty.
[[Say something idiot]]
Come on, say something.
Say something clever.
Say something hilarious.
[[Hi Hope]]
[[Hi Hope]]
Seriously? (text-colour:cyan)[HOPE
Don't worry about them, ok? Hey—]
She raises her hand.
[[Go for that high five|High five fail]]
[[Don't do anything. See if she gives you any more clues.|Don't high five]]
Oh no.
You missed.
You missed completely.
Oh, you shouldn't have even tried.
Now any question of your potential coolness has been answered.
Resoundingly.
Permanently.
You are a—
(text-colour:cyan)[HOPE
You gotta look at the elbow.]
[[Huh?|Look at the elbow]]Hope takes your hand.
She raises it up and opens your palm.
(text-colour:cyan)[HOPE
Can you take it from here? ]
There's no choice.
[[go for that high-five!|High five fail]]
(text-colour:cyan)[HOPE
You gotta look at the elbow. ]
You look at her elbow.
It must be such a beautiful elbow.
Underneath the flannel.
(if: $chooseStriped >= 1)[Wait a minute.
Are you matching?
You are!
What are the odds?
What could this mean?]
Shhhh.
Concentrate.
[[go for it|High five win]]There.
That feeling.
Of things fitting into place.
The sound.
Satisfaction beyond cognition.
The primortiral sound of creation.
The Origin.
From this vibration all other vibrations manifest.
(text-colour:cyan)[HOPE
You gotta look at the elbow. You'll never miss. ]
And she's gone.
They're all gone.
[[Time to go|Finish school day]]You go to your classes.
The (text-colour:grey)[teachers] speak at you.
The (text-colour:red)[bullies] harrass you.
But now you have...
(text-colour:cyan)[Hope]?
[[Go home|Go home]]At last.
Back to safety.
Your true love awaits.
Your true love being your computer.
Yes, that's right.
You hear a muffled, digitized voice.
(text-colour:green)[???
Zachariuuuuus!]
It's coming from your headphones.
(text-colour:yellow)[???
Zachmoooo!]
Right on the dot.
[[Join your friends]]TO BE CONTINUED
(end of demo as of 10/28/2022)
My first time working with Twine, I decided to adapt one of my plays, The Troll King, which follows the story of Zachary and Hope, two high school students and gamers who become rivals in the digital world. It felt like the right project to start with, as the play tries to incorporate game elements into its storytelling.
Something I learned: this demo takes place in a part of the story that takes maybe four or five pages in the play script. When I broke down this moment into branching choices and saw it as an opportunity for player exploration instead of audience viewing, I found so much to mine in just being in Zachary’s room, learning about him through player action. I even found a voice for the narration that comes from the negative self-talk of Zachary’s depressed teenage mind.
While I have always wanted to write for video games, this experience taught me that it was something that really excited me and brought out new ideas I would not have otherwise.
I will note that many choices lead to similar outcomes, and that is a deliberate choice I made to represent Zachary’s feeling of being trapped and oppressed by forces beyond his control. However, I did play around with how to trim branches based on your actions (i.e. options for looking around your room disappearing after you’ve exhausted them).